After the Second Voldemort War
by Les Dowich
Summary: A catch basket for short and Novella length stories about growing up and living in a VoldemortFree world. Read the intro, it is fairly selfexplanatory, and I hope you enjoy the offerings as they come up. Muggles is complete, Terry and Elizabeth is starte
1. Chapter 1

**After the Second Voldemort War**

By

Les Dowich

Email: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by Ms Rowling, much as I would like to. I do not make money from these stories, despite the need.

**Rating: **Always a tricky one, definitely PG-13 edging to M, depending on where you live and what your country's rating scale is.

**Pairings:** Each 'chapter' has a different pairing

**Synopsis: **After the final battle lives continued, some smoothly, some not so smoothly. Stories both great and small deserved to be written but not at a full novel length. So, I have made a number of 'novella' length segments that are dedicated to different characters, how they grew up, what their lives became or didn't become. There are some humorous incidents, some horrendous and some just plain out vicious. There are original characters as well as firm canon favourites. Some parts are within canon and some are way out of spec, still…

I have bound them all together in a catchall title After the SVW and hope you enjoy them.

**Warnings:** There is some slash, some het, possibly some humour and some squicky bits. There is always angst, adventure and drama, even some introspection and a bit of philosophical thought as well as gratuitous violence. Enjoy it - or don't - up to you, I had fun writing the various bits.

Les

**Table of Contents**

01 - Meeting a Muggle


	2. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 01

**01 - Meet the Muggle**

**Chapter 1**

"Oh come on Dez, it's only the end of shift blues, you know? You're going to make a pretty good surgeon when this hell is over. Trust us to be rostered on during the worst riots or terrorist attacks or whatever they are in history. This last couple of days puts me in mind of the Brixton Riots when I was a kid," Mustapha Bottomly half laughed but there was little amusement in the noise. They had been on duty for nearly forty eight hours and both of them were exhausted as they headed toward the resident's quarters, where they hoped to get a little sleep.

Desiree Sarah Hanson sighed deeply as she pushed short blonde hair off her forehead. She had just spent an hour sewing up a slash carved through a young girl's side and breast by a vengeful boyfriend, who thought the top she had been wearing made her look cheap. It was ridiculous! The world had gone mad! Everywhere people were doing impossibly evil things as casually and as thoughtlessly as…. It was as if evil was no longer a moral issue, it was a way of life.

"That's quite an indictment on the human race, my girl." Mustapha sighed but didn't contradict her, even though Dez hadn't realised she had spoken the thought aloud. "Can't say I disagree either, considering…." He sighed again as he scrubbed his face too. He was in the unenviable position of having a Black Muslim mother and a white Anglican father. His parents had had to move to the back woods of East Anglia to escape the constant conflict of their families. He had come to London to Guys Hospital to do his training but he would be going back to his sleepy little village to practice as soon as he qualified.

"Nostradamus was right; in the one hundred and thirteenth Pope the world will go mad."

"I know, then the eagle and the bear will join together and that will be followed by the Golden Age. If you believe those predictions then I have this really cool…." He broke off as there was a loud bang, and a couple of men appeared in the hallway only yards from them.

The stench of blood, sweat, smoke and roast pork was disgusting as the redhead collapsed unconscious on the ground, his smaller blond companion sinking to his knees under the weight. "Give me a hand, you bloody Muggles, instead of standing there gaping like goldfish," the blond yelled in very precise tones as he tried to stop his friend's head cracking on the tiles.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Mustapha swore as they both dashed forward. The red head in the red party outfit was bleeding badly, his right leg significantly shorter in the shin than it would naturally be. "Oh God, it looks like he stepped on a landmine!"

"Near enough," the blond muttered, pushing blood and shredded flesh out of his face as he gasped for breath. "Damn it, Weasley, why couldn't you have been normal sized!" He half laughed, half wept as he tried to get out from under his much bigger companion.

Mustapha grabbed his arm and found the blond was shaking in every fibre, as if he had grasped a power line. Dez went on her knees beside the redhead, applying pressure to the large muscles just below his knee. The leg below his knee joint was a mass of bone splinters, shredded flesh and cloth, as well as what looked like dirt, grass and stone fragments. Doing a quick visual inventory of the man, she realised his right hand was neatly sliced across: the little and ring finger completely missing, the tip of his thumb hanging on by a shred of skin. There was a piece of wood embedded in his palm, a long splinter that must have come from a moulding, as it had some sort of carving on one part. It came free easily when she pulled it and she stuck it into her pocket as she sent Mustapha off to get the trauma team.

Even as Desiree's mind catalogued the wounds, her hands had been busy straightening, easing, controlling. She hated surgery, especially trauma surgery, but she was good at it. One of her professors wanted her to go in as a full surgical specialisation but she was more leaning toward genetic research, which was much less difficult to sleep with. She knew she would be seeing this red headed man again in her nightmares for quite a few nights to come, and the prospect was not pleasant!

As she eased the splinter out of his hand, the left hand suddenly tangled in her loose lab coat and she was flung back against the wall. There was little sense in the wide blue eyes that darted wildly around the corridor. The thrashing, struggling man managed to flick blood all over, as he tried to get up. His blond friend flung himself forward, trying to smother his struggles, grabbing his ruined wrist, and holding him tightly.

"Harry! Hermione!" The names were bellowed in terror and desperation as the blond was flung off into a wall again, but he came back like a persistent terrier, to try and smother the much larger man.

"For Merlin's sake, Weasel, get a grip! They are alive! Stop it now! Don't just stand there, you idiot Muggle, _stupefy_ him!"

"Malfoy? Where the hell are we? What have you done? Where's the battle?"

"I saved your worthless life. The battle is almost over, we won, I think. I--I believe Hermione is okay, I believe that!" Anguish twisted the perfect features for a second then the Malfoy mask was back in place. "I apparated you out to St. Mungo's, but I think I missed. Lie still, you are a mess, and you are getting gore all over me!"

"Bloody Malfoy!"

"Har, har, excuse me if I don't laugh." The young man sounded nearer to tears than laughter.

Dez shook her head but did not stop her work as she listened to the two of them bicker and moan, as old friends and comrades will. She didn't know their names, and didn't stop to ask, as one of the arteries in Weasley's leg suddenly broke open, shooting a fountain of blood up to the ceiling. Both men gasped as they were sprayed, the red head cursing in pain, the blond pulling out a stick and aiming it at the wound. He muttered some Latin and the bleeding stopped instantly, making Dez stare at him in amazement. "That's a good trick," she commented.

"Honestly, Malfoy, magic before Muggles, you _are_ in trouble, aren't you?" Weasley actually laughed before another wave of agony made him slump.

"It's all that's keeping your arse in the land of the living, you idiot weasel," Malfoy sniffled and rubbed at his face again. The very pale skin was taking on a deep red mottling, as if some deep blunt force trauma was slowly coming to the surface. "He's right though; magic in front of Muggles is a no-no, but if you don't tell, I won't."

"Is magic going to fix this mess?" Dez asked wishing Mustapha would get back with the trauma team.

"No, his leg is gone, he's going to be doing a Mad Eye Moody, but I am more concerned with the loss of his fingers. His wand almost blew up and the hex sheered both it and his fingers completely off. I would have grabbed them, but bloody Pansy of all people, hit me with a bludgeon spell and nearly knocked me out. Good job she always fancied me or it would have taken my head off." Malfoy knew he was rambling but for some reason there were now two blonde girls and two red haired weasels in the passage. "Oh well, as long as he's still alive at the end of it, my darling wife will not go ballistic. He's one of her best friend, after all."

"You're married?"

"Humm, yes, an amazing thing, I can tell you, took me by surprise too, as did Lysander, my son. He is just the most perfect thing you have ever seen."

"Took us all by surprise," Weasley muttered, drifting back into consciousness. "You, the Death Eater-in-training, and our Hermione, the perfect Light witch, engaged to be married? Impossible! We should have turned you permanently into a ferret, Ferret."

"You, and which army?"

"Me and Harry," Weasley replied as if by rote then groaned miserably. "Oh Gods above, did Harry get that psycho? Did he do it? Is he still alive?"

"Easy, Weasel, Harry was fine, last I saw of him, and Dumbledore was standing guard over him with McGonagall. My… my father … Lucius was… and…."

"Head of Family, then?"

"Head of Family," Malfoy confirmed with a grim smile. "How is he doing, girl?"

"Fine, except for being on death's doorstep," Desiree snapped, using a pair of forceps from her pocket to clamp another vein that began to pump sluggishly. "Keep him occupied, you're doing fine."

"Why, thank you." The blond half smiled and swayed alarmingly as he attempted a bow.

There was a commotion as Mustapha came barrelling down the corridor with four of the trauma team on his heels. The blond boy tried to raise his stick again, but his hand was shaking almost as much as his friend's. Desiree yelped as one of the team pulled her out of the way then half a dozen other people in white academic robes arrived with the pop of champagne corks.

There was a confused milling of people, the blond crying out as if in relief then a burst of Latin. Someone cursed as they pushed her aside and waved yet another stick over her patient's leg. The blond said something about a hex and a bludger then there was a light, a pretty, white light. Dez squinted her eyes as she was used to getting flashes from the surgery light, her being so much taller than the rest of the team, but it did not good, she was a little dazzled.


	3. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 02

**Chapter 2**

"Doctor Desiree Hanson report to Accident and Emergency," the paging system murmured through the speakers and Dez pulled herself out of the cot, groaning as every muscle in her body protested. She wasn't on call again, was she? She had to be, she was here, wasn't she? They were paging her, weren't they? Muttering dire threats on the hospital as a whole, and the sadistic bastards who made up the roster specifically, she stumbled out into the hallway and headed for the next round of the urban war against terror and pain. The undeclared war had hotted up for three weeks, but in the last few days it seemed to be slowing down and growing less active, less bloodthirsty and certainly less hectic.

Her shift was only short this time, fourteen hours of gruelling; 'on the feet' work then bliss of bliss a whole ninety six hours off! She had a hot date with her orthopaedically designed mattress and the world could go to hell for all she cared. She had worked for eight solid days and was ready to collapse. Thank God her surgical residency was almost over and she could be in her own rooms in less than three months!

Opening the door of her rather dusty and forlorn flat, she began emptying out her pockets even as she staggered toward the bedroom. She pulled out pens, bits of paper and a couple of lollypops she kept for kids, but when she came to an ornately carved, blood stained piece of rod, she stopped in surprise. As she studied it, a memory of red hair and blond hair came to mind, the two men covered in blood and stink. The redhead had been injured - badly injured - and his friend was going into concussive shock. They had been in the corridor behind the registrar's quarters, but how did they get there?

The stick was important, a magic wand, wasn't it, and the blond one had used his wand to make things happen. The redhead had teased him about it, and she had encouraged them as it kept them conscious until Mustapha could bring in the trauma team to deal with their injuries. Studying the carvings, Dez noticed the thing was hollow and something was stuck inside. Curiously, she dug around in the pile of rubbish in her top drawer and found a pair of very fine suturing forceps. Manipulating them with all the skill of her surgeon's training, she carefully extracted a fine, silvery sinew from the hollow. The severed end looked grey and dead but the lower portion retained a sheen and sparkle that was mesmeric. As she let the end go, it slid back inside the hollow with a faint hiss.

So it hadn't been a dream or a flight of her overtaxed imagination, she really had seen the two men, and they really had disappeared before her very eyes. The six people in white academic style robes had really used wands to clean the blood off the floors and ceiling, and had somehow wiped their memories of the incident out. Mustapha had no recall at all. She went to bed with the wand fragment under her pillow so it would still be there in the morning.

oo0oo

Someone was casting magic over him and he couldn't find his wand! Ron awoke with a roar of fury and thrashed out, trying to get away from the wielder. A band of iron attached to his wrist, holding him still until the words managed to get through to him.

"Ron, please settle down. No one is going to hurt you any more."

"Remus? Oh, Merlin, I had the most…." As his eyes opened, Ron caught sight of his maimed hand, held at the wrist by his very worried professor, who was trying not to let him hurt himself any further. "Oh! It wasn't a dream, was it?" he whispered, biting his lip as Remus' greying head shook slowly and sympathetically. "My leg's gone too, isn't it?" Again the head moved but in the affirmative. "Harry and Hermione; are they alive? Did we win?"

"We won, at a price, a terrible price, but we did win." There was no elation in Remus' soft, rasping voice just weary acceptance as he let go of Ron's arm and settled back into his chair. "Harry is alive, yes, but he is totally blind. The healers don't know why or how the spell or the Elemental or whatever it was, only affected his optics, but it did, and here is nothing magic can do to help. They even called in a Muggle expert but he was even less hopeful than the mediwizards who first looked at him. Harry himself is not that worried, or at least, that is the impression he gives, and his scent says the same. He is simply content to be alive."

"That's a good thing then, is it? Blind but alive," Ron asked harshly, his own trauma too hard and sudden to accept yet.

"Better than seeing and dead, I should think," Remus snapped then apologised for his outburst as Ron collapsed back against his pillows.

"I guess so, and Hermione? Is she…?"

"Alive yes, conscious no. She has been completely unconscious for five days. They found her in a coma on the battlefield and brought her straight in. There was an unusual curse signature on her which they immediately neutralised but nothing else, just a complete lack of consciousness. Draco is going insane worrying about her and caring for Lysander. I-I have to go soon, they don't like to have me in here, but Dumbledore insisted."

Ron looked puzzled for a moment or two. "What do you mean? You were injured too, weren't you? I'm sure I saw you take at least one curse, possibly two without slowing you down for long."

"It wasn't much of a curse," Remus brushed off his concern without noticing. "Have to get back to Grimmauld Place and finish sorting out the Order's affairs for the Ministry. And…" he drew a deep breath before continuing, a slight catch in his voice. "And Severus is missing, there is no trace of him anywhere."

"But, but he was there, on the field, where could he have gone. Unless he was disintegrated, but even that powerful a spell would leave some trace to be followed," Ron murmured, speculating aloud.

"He was caught by Nagini and her body was found but there was no trace of Severus that we could follow, really. Still, Professor Dumbledore is going to look into it for me. Now that you are awake I can rest a little easier. There's just Hermione to wait for and then I will be happy. See you later, Ron."

"See you, Remus, take care of yourself," Ron said as the werewolf slipped out and a medi-witch came in, glancing over her shoulder and tutting in disapproval.

"I don't know why they let those things in here," she muttered then smiled brightly. "And how are you feeling today, Mr Weasley?"

"What do you mean 'those things'?" Ron asked, ignoring her question.

"Why, the animals, of course, fleas and…" She broke off as her patient turned a fiery red and sat up abruptly.

"Out! You rotten bitch! Remus saved everyone's lives on more occasions than I care to remember and you say something like that about him? Get out of my sight you stupid, inane cow!"

She fled his fury and no one mentioned animals and werewolves again in his presence.

oo0oo

Harry and Hermione came to see him, Harry leaning on Ginny's arm, Hermione and Draco attached at the hip. The four of them hovered around his bed, each of them uncomfortable with the other for the first time in their lives. It was awkward and upsetting. The meeting did not last long before a nurse came and chased Hermione back to bed. Harry lingered a few moments longer but then he had to go for more tests and allowed Ginny to lead him away.

And Ron was alone again, trapped in his bed without a wand, and no hope of getting away from the relentless kindness and good cheer of the St. Mungo's staff. Everyone was trying to be nice to Ron, keep Ron happy, and make sure ickle Ronnikins didn't start brooding and… whatever.

The bed was high and the ground seemed a long way off as he swung his leg and a half out of the side and put his remaining foot on the floor. Looking down, he covered his mouth as the purple and red lump below his knee mocked him with what was not there. There was no big freckled foot with knobbly toes and hard skin around the heels, nothing but fresh air, and a ghostly ache where there should not be. The floor was cold on his left foot but the right one - wasn't there. He sat, staring down and trying to come to terms with the loss. He was a cripple. He was definitely no longer whole, a piece of him left somewhere out on the battlefield, never to be recovered. There would be no more running with Harry and Hermione, not more climbing and dancing, not that he was ever very good at dancing, he added to himself honestly. Still, the fact that he would never have the opportunity to get any better really hurt! An insane woman in a black robe and a very bad white mask had pretty much destroyed life as he knew it. Damn Bellatrix Lestrange to the most fiery pits of hell, or rather, keep her there for eternity!

He thought that, perhaps, he should finish the job and just quietly top himself but then he would not be able to write a suicide note because the bastards had sliced his bloody fingers off too!

So, he sat there and covered his mouth with the two fingers that were left on his right hand, something else that ached when it shouldn't. There was a white scar all the way around the middle of his thumb where they had reattached the top half. It worked fine, felt good and useful but the missing parts still hurt.

He thought briefly of his wand, sliced in half by the hex that had removed his fingers, best oak and dragon sinews, a heavy duty wand for the reliable, as Ollivander had told him when he chose it. Good for hard hitting spells, perfect for the Auror in training. And there was another problem, three years of Auror training compressed into one week in the Room of Requirement, right up the spout. What use was a one legged, one handed Auror? Although, they had put up with Alastor for years, hadn't they?

Alastor had actually come to see him a few days before, bringing some sage advice on how to cope in a two legged world. It had been an uncomfortable meeting - as all his meetings were these days - the old man basically telling him to get a wooden leg and get on with life. Although roughly delivered, the advice was good and well worth taking. Trouble was, again, you needed a wand and he didn't have one. So he was stuck right here in St. Mungo's, flirting with the idea of suicide, until he could get out and get a wand, which he couldn't get until he had fixed his leg, which he couldn't do as he didn't have a wand. Gods! Life was so complicated!

There was a tentative knock on the door and Remus put his head around the edge, an uncertain smile on his face until Ron smiled and beckoned him in. The small man moved like a ghost to the side of the bed, his feet silent on the floor. He seemed to be slowly disappearing into the shadows over the past week and a half, as if he was also disappearing from their sight.

"How are you today?"

Ron snorted. "Doing the rat run thing," he said flippantly. "I need a wand to get out of here, and I need to get out of here to get a wand."

"Ah! I might be able to help you there." Remus smiled as he sat on the edge of the visitor's chair. "Will you let me cast on you? Thank you. I'm going to create a lower leg for you that will look just like the original but it is pure magic for just now. Once you get your own wand you can choose what sort of real artificial leg you want. Oh dear, that sounded a bit off, didn't it?" They both chuckled at the thin joke. "Have you apparated side by side? Very well, hold onto my arm for balance. Don't worry, I won't let you fall. I could carry you easily if I have to; I'm stronger than I look."

Ron had a vague memory of seeing Remus pick up and bodily hurl a Death Eater twenty feet without seeming to even try during one raid they had gone on, so he relaxed and gripped the solid arm offered to him, trusting Remus to apparate them both safely. He didn't even think to ask the werewolf where they were going until the spell caught hold of him.

They arrived with a pop in Diagon Alley as close to Ollivander's front door as Remus could get them. As they entered the shop, Ollivander himself hurried forward and pulled a chair in close to the counter, ushering Ron into it as if he was Pureblood royalty. For the next hour, Ron was pampered and catered to, wands of every description brought out for his assessment. Remus took no part in the proceedings apart from passing boxes when asked. The wands Ron tried were fantastic; some very close to his original one, others almost directly opposite. Finally he picked up a simple oak wand with a unicorn tail core and knew he had found _the_ wand. It was not like his old one and he puzzled about that, but it was definitely the right one. He turned to grin at Remus, who smiled back approvingly.

It was at that point Ron realised he didn't have any money and in fact he was still wearing his hospital pyjamas and dressing robe. Ollivander merely shrugged and told him it had been taken care of, and not to worry. Remus agreed and helped him up as Mr Ollivander handed him a wrist holster for his wand and helped strap it on, not an easy task when missing a couple of fingers. Finally, straightening to his full height, Ron thanked the wand maker and allowed Remus to help him out onto the street. The sun was shining and it looked like a really beautiful day, one of the nicest days Ron had ever seen and he said so, making Remus chuckle.

"Thanks, Remus, you have no idea…" he began but was waved away by his old teacher and good friend.

"I have every idea, Ron, having been deprived of my wand before. I didn't agree with them keeping you from having a new wand, and I did not think the deprivation was helping in your healing."

"So you took matters into your own hands?" Ron was startled into asking.

"I'm afraid so, and I have to tell you that I am not going back with you. I've already said goodbye to Harry and Hermione, and now I am saying goodbye to you. I've settled all my affairs and I'm leaving the wizarding world to live in the Muggle world."

"_Why_? Remus, you'll never survive by yourself. What about transformations and such, who will take care of you?" Ron protested as the older man began to step away from him. "What about Snape? I thought you two had a good thing going together."

Remus sighed deeply. "Severus is… is damaged. You heard we managed to track him to Azkaban and Professor Dumbledore secured his release? Yes, well, the damage had already been done. Severus had very few good memories and the Dementors managed to steal every single one in a few short days. He simply doesn't remember me as anything but the werewolf that tried to eat him all those years ago."

"Oh Remus, I am so sorry, but still, you can't just run away, you should at least fight for him."

"I'll be fine, Ron. I have some money again and have bought a piece of property for a song. The Muggles think it is haunted and the wizards know the Dark Mark appeared over it last year, so I bought it for just a few thousand pounds. I've lived as a Muggle before, so it won't be too hard. Now, you had better get back to St. Mungo's, this outing has taken longer than I thought and they are probably missing you right now. Take care of yourself."

The two men hugged tightly then Ron stepped back and Remus disappeared with a pop. Shaking his head, Ron waited a few minutes then apparated back to his room at St. Mungo's, where he appeared in chaos.

"Where have you been?" the mediwitch wailed as soon as he appeared, four Aurors suddenly turning to stare at him with varying expressions.

"Out to buy a wand, of course," Ron said as if it was an everyday occurrence. "Remus and I just popped out to Oll…."

"I told you that bloody animal had kidnapped him!"

"Oi, you, watch your mouth! Remus is not an animal; he is my friend and teacher!" Ron snarled at the woman in disgust. "No wonder he wants to leave our world if that sort of attitude is all he has to look forward to. Now get out! Don't bother coming back!"

The woman huffed indignantly but did exit, leaving the Aurors to grin at Ron as he limped over to the bed and sat down gingerly. He groaned miserably as his body protested with shooting pains all over.

"Overdid it, didn't you?" Alastor said with a wicked grin. "I told you it would take a bit of time. So, when are you coming back to work then?"

"I don't know, Alastor? Have I even got a job anymore?"

"You are on sick leave for the next twelve months, then you can come back as a Detective Constable, but you won't be in the field any more. The Minister wants you to put that very fancy Hogwarts education of yours to good use and start co-ordinating information for the whole Aurory."

Ron sighed and nodded before pulling off his dressing robe and climbing into the bed. "Sounds fine but first, I'm going to nap!"


	4. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 03

**Chapter 3**

"It's not so bad," Harry said and actually looked and sounded as if he meant it. "I've been sent back to school for a few months, to learn to use magic again without the clues of sight. I can hear nearly as well as a werewolf and I can smell things so much better." He grinned in Ron's direction and shrugged.

It had been almost three months since the last battle and life was returning to normal for most people. The seemingly never-ending string of award nights and testimonial dinners had slowed to a trickle. Finally they could all start trying to pick up the pieces and get on with their lives. Even Draco had been cleared of any wrong-doing and his father's estates returned to him, minus fines and restitution the Ministry had levied with a rather heavy hand. Still, between Draco's very well educated business sense and Hermione's determination to prosper, they were beginning to get Malfoy Enterprises back on its feet. There had been a few purges of the ranks which had caused a furore, but Draco knew where the bodies were buried and most of his father's former colleagues had gone quietly into the night.

Ron sighed deeply when he wondered when his life was going to draw into any semblance of normalcy. At the moment it just seemed to be one long round of spells and physical therapy, surrounded by the rather boring pale pink walls of St. Mungo's residential wing.

Harry was still chatting pleasantly, not really aware that he had lost Ron's attention until his sister's name came up. "Ginny bought me a dicta-quill last week, one of the direct voice ones, so I can scribble in my journal if I want to. I always fancied I could write a novel or two, especially with our experiences. It would have to be fiction as no one would believe it was the truth. Ginny thinks I would be a good novelist, says I can string words together in the most exciting way and keep everyone interested to the conclusion. She makes me feel good about myself and she has been looking after me, really well," Harry added softly, listening carefully for Ron's breathing. "Ginny and I have been, well, you know…."

Ron watched his friend and shook his head slowly. "Like we didn't notice? Harry, while you think you are being sneaky, you keep giving yourselves away by sneaking kisses and holding hands when you don't realise someone is watching."

"You aren't mad?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"No, I'm not mad. Oh come on, Harry, Ginny and I have lost three brothers and our father in the last few years. If you can make her as happy as she looks then she deserves any happiness she can get, and so do you. So when's the wedding?"

"Next week," Harry replied and laughed when Ron gasped aloud. "Will you be my best man?"

Once Ron stopped spluttering, he managed to congratulate his best mate before he began to wonder why they were in such a hurry. Harry's grin became wicked, almost as if he could see the expressions flitting across Ron's face. "No, she's not pregnant," he commented and laughed again. "Bet you are bright red now," he teased.

"Give over, Harry," Ron muttered disgruntled, wishing his ears didn't glow so brightly. "That's the usual reason for such a hurry."

"Perhaps it is or perhaps we just want to take what happiness we can get while the getting is good, just in case someone tries to take it away from us again. Life is short, Ron, as well you know, and who knows when it will be taken away. So, the sooner we get married the better. Now! Will you be my best man?"

"Of course, Mate!" Ron nodded enthusiastically. "What do I have to do?"

"Help me choose the ring. I thought we could go into Muggle London and see if there is a jewel good enough to adorn the hand of your sister."

"How terribly romantic," a voice drawled from the doorway and Draco lounged into the room, hitching his hip onto the bed and tossing Ron a bag which made him grunt when he caught the weight.

"What was that?" Harry asked uneasily.

"It's a Malfoy's idea of a joke. What's in this thing, bricks?" Ron demanded peevishly.

"It's much worse, it's books and clothes. Hermione thinks you should study a little so that you will be ready for your new job."

"You're leaving the Aurors?" Harry demanded incredulously. "But you love your job!"

Ron sighed. "No, I'm getting a promotion actually. I am going to be head of a new department created just for me. I am going to be the chief of information gathering, and disseminating information, a sort of non- unspeakable."

"Well, here is your first piece of information, Auror Weasley," Draco said cheerfully. "Only total idiots would go out in public just now without a full hitwizard squad to guard them. If you want jewellery Corous and Hanes will come to your home and design anything you want."

"What, just like that?"

"For the Boy-Who-Lived, of course they will, and they are quite discrete, of course. They designed a lot of my mother's jewellery, and are very good."

"And that's a recommendation?" Ron scoffed loudly.

"Naturally, my mother had impeccable taste in clothes, cuisine and jewellery; it was just her taste in men that was questionable. After all, she married my father, and they both followed the Dark Lord. Now, where are you going to hold the ceremony, and who is officiating?"

"At Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore will officiate, naturally," Harry responded instantly. "We want nothing big, just a small, private ceremony and wedding breakfast."

"Very well, leave it to my people; you two concentrate on the designing of the ring."

oo0oo

Draco coordinated the whole affair, simply by being a pure-blood and clicking his fingers with all the natural arrogance of his blood. On Lucius' death, Draco had stepped up as Head of Family, his mother taking poison when she heard of his father's defeat. Everyone thought he might be somewhat upset by the turn of events but he had merely shrugged.

"They both died a long time ago for me," he told the Gryffindors sincerely. "If either mother or father had received even a hint of my marriage or Lysander's existence, do you think Hermione or the baby would still be alive? No, they would have been tortured to death without a second thought. After all, in my parents' view neither one was really human, don't you know?"

It was a hard concept for any of them to comprehend, but that was basically what the war had been about in essence, the rights of Muggle-Borns to be counted as real people or not. That Draco had betrayed his pure-blood and sullied the Malfoy name with an unworthy Mudblood was unthinkable in his parent's lexicon. He would have been 'put down' with his wife and child as surely as if he had been contaminated by the contact.

oo0oo

The wedding was small, Hermione Ginny's only attendant. Somehow Draco had managed to preserve the secrecy, even as he had the private reception hall at Hogwarts completely refurbished. Molly gave her daughter away in a daze, still not recovered from the death of her husband and sons. In fact, it seemed to Ron that she was getting worse, instead of better, and that the passing of time was not healing her wounds in any way. Albus officiated, murmuring the time honoured words with a new and deeper emotion behind them. When he mentioned those who had gone before but were looking down in approval on this new union, there was not a dry eye in the Great Hall. The tears were happy rather than sad, and the memories fond, rather than bitter.

As soon as the service was over, Draco announced they were having a small reception with a clap of his hands. Dozens of white doves and sparkling splashes of rainbows dazzled everyone and, as their sight cleared, they saw tables and chairs. House-elves flitted about, laying lavish quantities of food and drink on the snow white linen and lace cloths. Everything sumptuous was laid on, including a hidden but very good orchestra that played soothing music during the meal, and dance music afterwards. Finally, Ginny tossed the bouquet and the newly weds were off to a secret location to have their honeymoon. Everything had to be kept totally hush-hush as the Daily Prophet still insisted on touting Harry as 'The Boy Who Lived To Defeat The Greatest Menace To The Wizarding World' and wrote lavish stories about him, which were often more fiction than fact.

When they eventually came back, Harry had bought a narrow three story townhouse in the middle of Muggle London as well as a country cottage near the Burrow. The Muggle house was quickly hidden under Fidelius charms, and warded as strongly as Hogwarts in many ways. No one was getting too close to the Potters if their friends could help it.


	5. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 04

**Chapter 4**

Desiree stared at her professor with her mouth open. "Say that again," she muttered in shock.

Professor Gillespie smiled at his best student. "The Grants Committee has rescinded the grant to Gregory Owensbey, as it was found he had plagiarised some work done by an Asian student in the late nineties. Therefore, my dear, you are now the new recipient of the Bookerman Grant and you can spend it on your further education as you see fit!"

Shaking her head in disbelief, Desiree suddenly flung her arms around her professor and kissed his cheek soundly. "Yes! Oh, Sir, you have no idea of what this means to me! No more production line surgery, no more battlefield butchery! Lab work and quiet seeking of knowledge, learning things that I think will be important to the rest of the world."

The old man smiled gently as he patted her hand. "You are to report to the learning centre tomorrow morning. Your name has been taken off the duty roster but we are going to call upon your skills in certain areas. You are so bloody brilliant with microsurgery, too good to lose really."

"I can live with that." Desiree nodded happily.

Her luck had been in these last few weeks, sometimes in little ways like getting a seat on the tube at rush hour, to big things like getting the grant that had already been given away. When a knife wielding maniac had run amok in the casualty department, he had tripped and fallen just before he plunged the knife into her. One patient she really thought was going to die had suddenly recovered for no apparent reason and she was able to repair an aneurism in his aorta safely.

"_Of course,"_ she thought plainly, "_it was all to do with the piece of carved wand she had found in her pocket."_ She carried it like a lucky piece, putting it in her pocket so she could run her fingers over it when she was thinking or just standing casually. The carving was intricate and delicate, of vine leaves and flowers with a few tiny, exotic birds hidden in the intertwined foliage. It was beautiful and she would have liked to have seen the full piece, before it had been cut off at a 45o angle.

Mind, it gave her odd dreams too: of comfort and peace, of being held safe in large, freckled fingers, or being twirled and stroked up and down her length. The dreams were odd and left her feeling horny and restless in ways that demanded attention, but not from herself. That in itself was strange as she had never been man hungry and the few encounters she had fumbled through had been totally uncomfortable, certainly not fulfilling. Still, it was that emptiness that drove her to accept Jane Sutton's invitation to go to the Bear Garden for a few drinks after class.

The Bear Garden was not far from Guys and was inhabited by office workers, interns and patients' relatives mainly. Once it had been called the German Beer Garden but the 'German' had been dropped during World War One and later that name had evolved when students had virtually taken it over. The tavern itself was low and rambling, lots of old wood and smoke blackened beams, gleaming brass work and uneven floorboards. What used to be the stables and coaching houses were now accommodation and the stable yard was the actual garden part of the name. Small tables and wooden chairs were scattered over the grass in the heat of the late arriving summer, the fogs and gloom of spring blown away by crisp warm breezes, to let the sun in finally.

They found a small table near the wall and quickly sat down with their drinks before it was lost to another party approaching from the left. The two boys and a girl laughed and asked if they could join them, Jane agreeing readily. Todd, Graham and Suzi were outgoing and happy, making cheerful small talk to which Jane responded as easily and as openly as she always did. Desiree nodded and smiled but didn't say much, too tired to do more than project an air of friendly interest. When Todd realised that the blonde was not interested in him, he switched his charm to Jane and by the end of the first round Jane was hooked. Desiree smiled as Jane gave her the sign and she chuckled to herself when the four of them left, Jane bending to whisper thanks in her ear.

"Enjoy, he looks cute," Desiree whispered back and picked up her nearly empty glass with a sigh that rattled her bones.

"Always the bridesmaid, never the bride," a voice said softly from the shadows under the trees in the corner.

"Excuse me?" Desiree asked more amused than offended.

"Your friends are hooking up in pairs and you get to be the bridesmaid, or the best man, but there's no one about to be your special someone. Not that it's a crime or depressing or anything, it's just a fact of life."

Desiree chuckled resignedly. "Good way of putting it. So, Best Man, can the Bridesmaid buy you a drink?"

He chuckled and rose, moving out of the shadow into the sun, which immediately turned his hair to blazing fire. "Allow me," he offered, holding his hand out for her glass. "What will you have?" As their hands touched something like an electric current flowed between them, making Desiree jump and her new acquaintance gasp.

"Sorry about that," Desiree giggled, "must be the weather."

"Must be, I'll be right back."

Desiree watched him go, admiring the height and size of him, despite being nearly six feet tall herself; she thought he would be taller. His jeans cupped his backside perfectly and the polo shirt moulded over broad shoulders. He was certainly fit but he limped just a little as he disappeared into the bar and reappeared a few moments later with the drinks.

As he came back, Desiree smiled and admired the deep red of his hair, the freckles and deep blue eyes coupled with a slightly snubbed nose gave him the air of a naughty little boy, but the look in those eyes was as ancient and as sad as time itself. The face was familiar too, but she couldn't quite recall where she had seen it.

"Do I have a smudge?" he asked in amusement. "The last girl who told me I had a smudge ended up as one of my best friends, still is, when she's not being my mother."

Laughing, Desiree shook her head slightly but the puzzled crease between her eyes didn't go away. "I know you, I'm sure I do, but I can't think from where. Is your last name Weasel or Weasley or …."

"Ron Weasley," he said cautiously, studying her closely. "Come to think of it, you look rather familiar too," he replied in a similarly puzzled tone. "You don't work at St. Mungo's, do you?"

"Guys Hospital, never heard of St Mungo's. You have a blond friend too, Malfoy or something." Desiree's eyes narrowed as she tried to grasp the memory then she gasped. "You were injured, badly injured, stepped on a landmine and lost a few fingers too. Your friend was trying to get you to … another place but … missed? Then you disappeared."

Ron stared at her in open mouthed horror as she spoke quietly and earnestly. "You aren't supposed to be able to resist _Obliviate_," he muttered in low tones. "Oh dear, this does complicate things, horribly."

"Why? Obviously you didn't die of your injuries or anything like that, so no one wants to sue me. If anything, I would say you made a remarkable recovery. In fact you shouldn't be out of hospital, never mind out of rehab, but I guess because of your extra abilities you have compensations. Or have you done a bolt from the rehab centre?" she teased, trying to lighten the conversation again.

Ron blinked at her, wishing he hadn't had the previous four whiskeys on an empty stomach. He really needed a clear head but casting sobering charms on himself would not be the recommended solution. "You aren't panicked by …."

"Magic? No, I don't think so. I've seen a few miracles in my time, survival against all the odds and death when it should never have happened. I know there is more in the world than I can understand and if I keep my eyes open then the world will show me her wonders, and her terrors, for free."

"Wow, you are something exceptional, aren't you?" Ron breathed in real admiration.

Desiree burst out laughing, much to his surprise. "That's the first time I have been praised for my lack of imagination. Oh, come on, I'm a six foot tall, blonde, Barbie doll with an IQ of 150 and hands like a rock. A healthy dose of cynicism is the only way to survive when most men tend to address your boobs rather than your ideas."

"Well, yes, they do tend to get in your face, you know?" Ron said honestly then clamped his hands over his mouth. "Oh Merlin, I didn't just say that, did I?"

"Yupe, afraid you did," Desiree giggled. "Are you usually so honest?"

Ron knew he was as red as his hair but she didn't seem offended so he took the chance and shrugged as casually as he could. "It's a talent, getting both feet in your mouth at once…." He stopped when he realised what he had just said then shook his head. "Not that that's happening any more." He sighed.

"You're right, it is a talent, and a two edged sword," Desiree murmured, taking his right hand and squeezing gently. Through the glove, she could feel the difference in the fingers even though the glove had been carefully padded to look like it covered a full rack of digits.

He baulked slightly then sighed and smiled sadly. "It takes some getting used to. People react in such different ways, from sickly pity to outright revulsion. I'm always conscious or self-conscious as Hermione insists, she's my friend, by the way."

"Married to Malfoy, the girl who told you about the smudge?"

"Oh, you are quick!" Ron grinned as she blushed slightly. "Of the three of us, I was always the tag end and now it's even worse. I'm poor Ron who got his leg blown off in the war."

"Or maybe it's more like the Unkillable Ron Weasley who survived a landmine with only minor damage to one leg!" Desiree put in with a firm tone. "Hey, in relative terms you got off fairly easily, even though you probably don't see it that way. I try to put people back together every day after the urban war has pulled them apart, and I lose quite a lot of them to stabs, shots, cars and plain out mayhem, but you are still alive to tell the tale. Count that as a real blessing, I assure you it is."

This blonde Barbie doll didn't pull her punches, Ron thought with a grin, and she didn't pander to his supposedly fragile ego, or psyche, or whatever. She was passionate about her ideas and was not letting him get away with anything. "You want to get some dinner?" he asked with a fond grin.

It was the last thing Desiree thought would come out of his mouth and it took her by surprise. "Dinner?"

"Yes, food, usually a substantial amount with or without a plate, wrapped in paper or in a cardboard container, if you like, or at a table with cutlery, candles and napkins if that's better."

She giggled, "Fish and chips with salt and vinegar in paper down by the water, you game?"

"You're on!"

They strolled along the embankment, eating fish and chips with their fingers and admiring the lights over the sluggishly flowing water. When the last of the food was disposed of, Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she relaxed against him as they continued to stroll, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting about subjects as wide and varied as the thoughts that flitted across their minds.

As the summer twilight drew in, they wandered into a pub and settled in a corner to talk and smile, perfectly relaxed and in tune with each other. Later when asked to recount their conversations, neither one could remember half of what they talked about, only that it was the best and most interesting conversation they had ever had, with anyone.

Late that night, Ron walked Desiree up to her flat door and waited while she opened it before leaning in and slowly bending to kiss her. Desiree could have moved away at any time but instead, she raised herself slightly, holding onto his shoulder for balance and kissed him back. As first kisses went, it was tentative and gentle, exploratory and sweet.

As they drew back, Ron sighed in the deepest contentment he had ever felt. "Can I see you again?" he asked softly, cupping her cheek with his good left hand.

"I'm on duty for the next three days but I'll give you my mobile number. Call me and leave a message if I am in surgery. Goodnight, Ron, I had a wonderful time, absolutely perfect."

Ron smiled down and nodded. "So did I, thank you, and thanks to you, I … just thanks."

oo0oo

"Unc Won, Unc Won!" Lysander staggered and giggled as he ran away from Hermione and slammed into his uncle's legs, a bit surprised when there was only one to hold onto.

Ron staggered too but managed to keep his balance as he reached down and grabbed the thirteen month old child under the arms tossing him in the air. "And how's my favourite big boy today?" he laughed as the baby squealed and giggled.

"Brum, whee, Dada Ma go bang."

"Well, fancy that! And were the wee bang brums centred?"

The baby nodded vigorously and both adults laughed as Ron reached forward and kissed Hermione on the cheek. He had apparated into Malfoy Manor, but had given no reason for his unexpected visit, which made Hermione curious. "You're looking glowing," he remarked and narrowed his eyes when she blushed. "Oh, he didn't? Congratulations! Wait until I get hold of that Ferret! It is Weasleys that are supposed to breed like bunnies, isn't it?"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione gasped but giggled all the same. "You weren't supposed to guess just like that, and watch what he's chewing on, he's teething," she warned just as the baby clamped down on Ron's dragon hide glove. "I hope that's clean."

Ron removed his finger from Lysander's mouth and shrugged ruefully, "Probably not," he apologised as he passed the baby over and wiped the glove on his robes. "Got a minute?"

"Always for you," Hermione offered then looked more closely at her friend. "You look _happy_," she almost accused.

"Now who is guessing out of turn?" Ron teased back. "I think I am happy, actually. I-I sort of met someone a couple of weeks ago and we've been seeing each other pretty regularly. She's special."

"Oh, that's wonderful Ron! Who is it, do we know her? Where did you meet her? Come on, spill!" Hermione demanded excitedly, a flick of her finger bringing a house-elf hurrying to serve tea and take Lysander off to nap.

"No more SPEW," Ron teased as the house-elf disappeared with the child.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Our house-elves are all free beings that stay for the wages and conditions. Lucius had completely destroyed the Malfoy colony before he and Narcissa left for the final battle. There were poor little bodies strewn all over the kitchens and cellars when we first arrived. It was so sad."

Dead House-elves were only one of the hazards the mansion held for anyone not born to the place. It had taken Hermione, Draco and a squad of Aurors and Ministry officials a couple of weeks to make the south wing of the place habitable. The rest of the contamination was being removed as an on-going project. At Hermione's insistence a member of the wizarding law firm who represented the Malfoys was on hand at all occasions to supervise the team from the Department of Mysteries. She had caught one official red-handed when he was removing a very nice ruby and diamond tiara from Narcissa Malfoy's jewellery box. If an item was legitimately a Dark Object then it was removed for study, valued and catalogued. Like everything they found, it remained Malfoy property, regardless of its provenance.

"I'm sorry," Ron said softly, knowing how much trouble his own department had caused in the beginning.

"Humm, so was I, but eventually a couple of surviving elves came back and we negotiated. Now they are free elves, and yet they stay. Enough of this, enough sadness. Tell me about your girl."

"She's beautiful!" Ron declared aloud, and then smiled mischievously. "A six foot tall blonde Barbie Doll, she called herself on the first afternoon we met. Took me a while to figure out what a Barbie Doll was, but then I had to laugh. She does resemble the doll quite a lot."

"Oh Ronald, you haven't hooked up with a total bimbo have you?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"No, I said she resembles a doll, but she has a mind like a steel trap, and is a doctor, of all things. She's a surgeon actually, although she has just been given a grant to pursue some sort of genetics research thing. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yes, my mother was telling me about the Muggle leaps forward in … Ronald Weasley! You're dating a Muggle-born. Good Lord, I never thought you would." Hermione giggled then stopped when she realised he was not laughing. "What?"

"Desiree is not a Muggle-born, Hermione, and I really didn't think it would make that much difference to you, of all people," he commented, temper stirring.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Ron, lighten up. I don't care if you have taken up with a centaur, if that makes you happy. So what if she's Muggle-born, she obviously makes you smile again, and that is what is important to me."

"She's a Muggle, Hermione, not magical in the slightest bit, from a whole family of not at all magical people, who live in Cheshire and have no idea I even exist yet." Ron rose to pace jerkily while Hermione watched him struggle for words. "What do I do? What do I say to them? How do I behave? What do I tell them?"

"Yes, I see. How much family does she have? Parents and one older brother, okay, is the brother married? Fine, then it's only three people you need to worry about. Look talk to your Desiree and see how she wants to approach her parents. Maybe she will have some idea of how they will react to you. Maybe she will not want you to say anything at all. And you had better brush up on your Muggle studies. A good thing your Dad had so much Muggle stuff so it's not all totally new for you."

"I already started on that. See what I have, it's a mobile phone, neat huh?" He fished inside his robes and pulled out the small flip phone triumphantly. "She gave me her mobile number and I had absolute fits until I asked Harry what it was. He took me out and we bought this phone. Took some fancy charms to keep it working around magic, but once I figured out the charms, it was just too easy. See, I can send a message and she can reply later when she gets it, and it's clean, no sticking your head in the fire to talk."

Hermione laughed and shook her head as she let him demonstrate his new toy, marvelling at the new enthusiasm and vibrancy in her friend. He hadn't looked this happy for literally years and she was so glad for him. They had all been worried about Ron since he had been released from St Mungo's.

At times they had worried about how much he had taken to drinking, never having had a strong head for alcohol. And he had been so close-mouthed about everything, never losing his temper and exploding as he usually did, instead, going off into sullen brooding silences. Then there was the issue of his lost limb, something he never discussed at all, nor alluded to in any way. Even when the healers had told him it was not possible to regrow it; Ron had taken the news with a flat, emotionless expression. Oh, they had found out that Remus had created a temporary leg for him when the werewolf had sneaked Ron out of St Mungo's to go and buy a wand. However, nothing more was ever said and Ron was always very careful to wear the same shoes on both feet, even though he had liked to go barefoot in the summer at the Burrow. He never did now, no matter how hot the weather turned.

Now he was full of laughter and mischief, almost like his younger self, speaking enthusiastically of his new duties and new office, complaining about the amount of 'homework' he had to do these days. When Draco apparated in from work they had a wonderful evening. Sipping fine wines, they dined well on the best the Malfoy kitchens had to offer. There was plenty of laughter and absolutely no talk of war or death. Hermione sipped fruit juice and joined in the laughter, welcoming its calming powers and wishing they were all there to partake of the simple joy and healing.


	6. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 05

**Chapter 5**

"Mum, Dad, Jerry, this is Ron," Desiree said with a wide smile as her family came out to meet them at the front gate.

They had driven up from London in Desiree's car, an experience Ron had thought he was used to after a few of their outings but he had never been on the motor way before. He had spent half the trip clinging to the seat with both hands and wondering if he apparated out would he end up splattered all over the road. The rest of the trip was spent planning spells to cocoon both he and Desiree if she lost control at such a speed and they crashed ignominiously into one of the pillars that flashed past with a roar.

Desiree simply laughed at his fears, zipping past the slower traffic with little regard for the speed limit. When she spotted a sign, she spun the wheel and took the off-ramp at a speed that made Ron claw back in his seat and go for his wand. By the time he got it out, they were cruising along at a sedate thirty five, the double lane road lined with trees and green fields. A low stone building hove into view and Desiree pulled up in the gravelled yard, turning off the car and grinning at him like a maniac.

"Okay, Macho Man, we'll take a break and stretch our legs here, so you can get your head together. Ron, darling, honey, sweetheart, I make this trip at least once a month and I know the road very well. We weren't speeding too much, and we were quite safe. I am a good driver and I don't take reckless chances, I promise you. Now, the Bald Horse does wonderful counter lunches so I think we'll eat here, before we take the next part of the journey."

The rest of the drive had been at a saner pace, through twisting country lanes and rolling countryside, interspersed with rugged cliff faces and meandering streams. Desiree pointed out various landmarks and Ron took them all in, enjoying the grass scented breeze that whipped in through the window. As they entered the village, there were stone cottages on either side of the road, a sandstone bridge crossing a small, stone littered creek bed and cobbled streets that looked like Diagon Alley. Ron felt right at home as Desiree negotiated the narrow streets and pulled up outside a low stone wall surrounding a cottage with roses growing over the front porch. It was very picturesque with its trimmed emerald grass and flowerbeds with rosebushes in full bloom. The scent was full bodied and rich as they both climbed out of the car and stretched in unison.

Even as the car doors clunked shut the blue painted front door was flung open and three people tumbled out, each bearing a strong resemblance to Desiree. It was not hard to see who her mother was or her father, even her brother was of similar features and build but all were smaller and finer boned than his best girl.

"Finally found one of a decent size, did you?" Jerry asked, grinning up at his sister who was a couple of inches taller than him.

"Less mouth from you, Shorty," Desiree retaliated as they hugged fondly. "My very cheeky brother, I'll have you know I picked for quality, not quantity."

"Looks like you got both," Mrs Hanson said, eyeing the huge man her daughter had brought home, noting the slightly apprehensive frown was smoothing from his brow and the blue eyes were brightening. He had a very expressive face, this young man, and he didn't bother to hide how his eyes followed their extraordinary daughter with clear devotion. "He's a keeper, Dez," she whispered when her daughter gave her a hug.

"Yes, I know," Desiree whispered back as she went to hug her father.

"George Hanson," her father said, offering his hand to the young man who took it carefully, still wearing one thin black glove.

"Doing a Michael Jackson," Jerry teased as he shook hands with Ron too.

Ron glanced at Desiree for a clue but she just grimaced and shook her head. "He's a pop singer who always wore one glove," she said in put upon tones. "That's just Jerry's way of being a hip and happenin' sort of guy. Just ignore him."

By now the party had been herded into the front parlour where afternoon tea was laid out on the table, all tea and scones and pies and cakes. Ron's eyes lit up and he grinned at such a familiar sight, just like his mother's. He hadn't realised he'd said that aloud until Desiree laughed and told him he had hollow legs.

"True, and one leaks too," he joked, making Desiree giggle and nudge him fondly. He had come a long way over the last few months.

"Is that what you call a private joke?" Jerry asked as they were seated.

Desiree glanced at Ron who shrugged and smiled ruefully. "I lost my leg and fingers in the war so I guess it is a sort of private joke. My friends always told me I had hollow legs but after the accident I seemed to manage to eat even more than usual without getting any fatter, so they assumed the missing one leaked. It's just jealousy since I can survive even my mother's attempts to fatten me up, and never gain an ounce of weight, unlike my sister."

"Ginny's not fat," Desiree said in surprise.

"Yes, and Ginny doesn't live at home any more. You know Harry is a complete health nut but it wasn't all his idea, he used to be fairly normal until Ginny got hold of him."

Desiree laughed and nodded to her brother. "If Mum put all this food on the table every day these two would be just as fat as you think Ginny was."

"Oh no, this is all special occasion stuff. Mum went all out," Jerry said, rallying after his gaff.

Desiree smiled encouragement at her parents and set out on a new topic of conversation until they relaxed enough to be natural.

"Well that went off rather well," Ron said softly into Desiree's hair as they snuggled on the back porch. "I didn't entirely put my foot in it, and your parents weren't too upset with me."

"They loved you, and Jerry was pretty good too, and they behaved quite well over the amputee part too."

"Did you think they wouldn't?" Ron asked puzzled.

"I had horrible visions of Mum going into the 'oh you poor little dear' routine instead of… well you understand what I mean?"

"Yeah, all too well, it's still an adjustment for people, even my own people. We don't have that many accidents and the few that do tend to be exceptional. Usually an accident ends in death or scarring, not lopped limbs or missing bits. I like your family by the way, they're really nice. Mind you, I'm just glad Dean kept us up to date on the football or I would have been in trouble."

"Humm, you were doing well until the more recent season then you fell apart. Doesn't Dean keep you informed any more?" she asked with a grin.

"No. He and Seamus were taken out about eight months ago when they were protecting the lake landing wharf at Hogwarts, our school, from _inferi_, er, zombies. Death or scarring, Dean died and Seamus, well, we sent him to Switzerland for pretty much full body skin grafts."

"Oh Lord, we just keep stepping on painful wounds, don't we?" Desiree said softly.

"Not really, I think I am making the best adjustment of all those who are still involved. I mean, Harry and Ginny are well out of it. They did their part, paid the price and have earned their peace, same for Draco and Hermione. They tried to take all of Draco's inheritance as reparations, but between Hermione and Dumbledore, plus a few other Order Members, he kept about half of it. Severus got carted off to Azkaban for almost a month before we managed to locate and free him but he was… damaged… in Azkaban. I told you Remus had fled to become a Muggle, and the teachers have holed back up in Hogwarts to lick their wounds. The rest of us who are with the Aurory have to keep on facing the consequences and mopping up the fringes, so we can't run away. However, quite a number have put their heads in the sand and act like they are unaffected but they aren't. Me, I know I got hurt and I know I survived when others didn't, and I can live with that fact, thanks to you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you give me hope and make my world a brighter and more special place. Without you, I think I would have stayed grim and a lot less tolerant than I have become."

"Oh, you tolerate me, do you?" Desiree growled at him and pummelled his shoulder playfully.

"Now who else would tolerate Barbie beating up on them except a calm, even tempered, easy-going fellow like me?" Ron teased as she let out a squeal of outrage and proceeded to tickle him into submission.

"So, when are we going to tell them you are a wizard?" Desiree asked after the long and satisfying snogging session that followed their playful wrestling.

"That's up to you, I think. Do you feel they are ready for it? If you do, we can do it now. If you want to wait, we can. Or you can tell them I'm with the Special Forces and I can't tell them anything about myself for fear of compromising security," he told her carefully.

"You know, even if we do tell them you are a Wizard, they are just going to think you are in the special forces anyway. Look, we'll tell them but if it looks like they are going to freak then you can work your magic any way you think best to save the situation. Does that sound fair?"

"That's fair," Ron agreed giving her a hug. "Let's tell them after dinner. If we tell them before it might get ruined."

Desiree gasped then giggled and slapped his shoulder. "You are a walking stomach!"

Ron grinned and pulled her into a full hug again.

oo0oo

George and Allison Hanson took his status as a wizard fairly well, allowing that magic was always possible with small, disbelieving smiles. Jerry simply laughed aloud and shook his head in disbelief until Ron turned a small footstool into a rabbit. Seeing the paisley patterned creature hopping around on the hearthrug stopped the scoffing and all three older Hansons sat back to listen more seriously to Ron's explanation.

"So, let me get this straight, you can do real magic like Merlin the magician…" George began but stopped when Ron squirmed a little uncomfortably.

"Not Merlin, he was sort of like, well the Forerunner…" Ron started to explain.

"Like God or Jesus?" Jerry piped up brightly.

"No, more like a great Emperor or General. He gave us a lot of laws to live by and helped forge the history of both our people so that we could live together without too much friction. I'm not good at Muggle studies so I can't tell you exactly how it happened except he made a deal with Uthur Pendragon and his son Arthur, which held long enough for us all but disappear from Muggle minds."

"And now you are telling us about, er, your people," Allison stated more than asked, glancing knowingly at her daughter.

Ron smiled crookedly. "Yes. If all goes well then you have to know, if it doesn't then there is no harm done."

""What do you mean, if all goes well?" Jerry teased without malice.

Ron and Desiree looked at each other and smiled. "I think it will," Ron murmured softly.

oo0oo

They drove home in a comfortable, companionable silence, Desiree navigating the roads with almost careless skill. As they pulled up in front of her flat, Ron sighed in a contented way.

"I think that went off fairly well, don't you?" he mused softly as he turned to study her in the glow of the street light.

"They really liked you," she confirmed with a smile. "They don't care that you are a wizard, you know, only that you are making me happy," she assured him quietly.

"Humm, I'm glad. Trouble is, I don't know how my mum is going to react. She's been really funny since my Dad was killed during a raid on the Ministry. The medi-witches call it depression but we think she has a broken heart. Losing so many of us was a devastating blow and she and dad had been together since they were at school as children. If she takes to you then it will be all good, if she takes against you then she will do everything in her power to stop us marrying. Believe me, the name of Molly Weasley strikes fear in a number of hearts, even today. She was always formidable but now she is a legend amongst both the Light and the Dark."

"Do you think she will take against me?" Desiree asked curiously as he walked her to the door and opened it with the key she had given him.

Ron thought a bit. "No, I don't," he decided with a smile, only Desiree didn't realise he had his fingers crossed behind his back. "See you tomorrow, Love," he said kissing her goodbye, as he left her at the front door and apparated out.


	7. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 06

**Chapter 6**

Molly stared at her youngest son then shook her head slightly, as if trying to understand a foreign language. When Ron had fire-called and asked if he could come out for dinner, Molly had agreed, glad of the company. It was so lonely in the house now that all the children had--gone. Sometimes the weight of emptiness and past lives crushed her so heavily that just getting out of bed was too much of an effort. Ginny had caught her during one of the really bad days and rushed her straight off to St Mungo's. There, the medical staff had given her all sorts of charms and potions to make her happy, to cheer her up and make her less anxious about the future. In fact, they gave her so many potions and notions, Molly wondered what would happen if she used them all at once. Would she explode with maniacal cheerfulness, or would she laugh herself to death.

Rather than precipitate another round of the poking and prying of the medi-witch conventions, Molly made sure she was always out of bed on time and ready to face anyone who 'popped' in unannounced, like her children. And now Ron was giving her some news that took a lot of swallowing.

"She's a Muggle, a pure Muggle? And you want to marry her? But how will she cope with our world? What will your fa…? He would probably approve very much, wouldn't he? Very well, bring her out to the Burrow whenever you like, I'll be here."

"Do you want me to arrange for Ginny and Harry to be here too, Mum? I can, if you think it would be easier for you," Ron said gently, watching the veil of sadness fall back over his mother's eyes.

"If you would like them here but it's not necessary for me. I always thought you might marry Hermione but then, when I saw her with Draco, I realised you were very good friends, not romantically involved. Ron, you have a right to marry anyone you like, as long as she is a nice girl, and she makes you happy. And you are happier now, happier than you have been for a long time. We could have a picnic on the lawn and perhaps…." She broke off as her son kissed her cheek soundly.

"Thanks, Mum, you will like her, I promise, and she does make me happy. You're right, I was 'in love' with Hermione for years, a sort of blind devotion but when I met Desiree I suddenly realised it was only affection compared to what was sparking between Dez and I, and I don't mean just sex, Mum, so you can put the lecture back on the shelf." He grinned as his mother settled her feathers again.

"I'm glad you have found the real thing," she temporised the lecture with a smile.

oo0oo

Molly stared at the hand that was held out to her then took it and turned it over to look at the palm. "Long life line and lots of vigour, your heart line is thick and strong too. Lots of little creases along the side of your palm mean a good number of children, not as many as Hermione, but enough to make a good and proper sized family. Perhaps you are a keeper after all."

Desiree blinked at the strangely shrunken woman who was holding her hand and making such pronouncements then she smiled a little. "Can you tell how many children?" she asked softly.

Molly looked up at the tall, busty blonde and smiled, getting a good feeling from this Muggle girl. "As many as you and him want, Girl, as many as you and he want. Come along now; let's get some hot tea into you, or are you a hot chocolate fan?"

Ron let out a slow breath, careful not to draw attention to his self, as his mother led his girlfriend into the house and sat her at the long, scrubbed table. His mother had done it, she had made the leap to accept Desiree all by herself, and once Molly Weasley made up her mind, there was no changing it! As he watched, Desiree exclaimed excitedly and Molly laughed as the girl went dashing over to look at the fairies as they pollinated the flowers while munching up the petals. Grinning, he shook his head and strolled out after them.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as dusk began to fall and the stars became brighter high in the sky.

Leaning up against him as he sat propped against a tree, Desiree sighed deeply and snuggled closer. "I have had such a good time. Your mother is a treasure, and this place is just fantastic. Mind you, I don't think I will ever be a fan of broomstick riding, which was scary!"

Ron sniggered when he recalled her screams and dire threats she had made until he brought her down again. No, Dez was not a flying fan!

"It must have been wonderful growing up here," she said snuggling into his chest.

Ron sighed and plucked a straw to chew on meditatively. "At the time, no. Oh, the brothers next to me in age were twins and had a rugged sense of humour. Gred and Forge were bastards to me on more than one occasion. Hey, they turned me blue, gave me fur, blew me up and shrank me down on so many occasions, I'm still not sure if I came out right. In retrospect, I miss the hell out of them."

"They were killed in your war, weren't they?" Desiree said softly, trying not to break the introspective mood. Ron rarely spoke of their losses.

"Yeah, they worked for the Order, as we all did, gathering information in some very strange places. Unfortunately one afternoon, Fred got caught with his extendible ear in the wrong window. George was in agony, said he could feel what they were doing to his twin but no one realised he had gone off on a rescue mission on his own. Of course, it didn't work and Severus Snape brought the bodies back as soon as he could. I think he cleaned them up a lot before Mum saw them, but they were still pretty bad. They're over in the family garden along with Bill and Dad."

"You lost a lot of family, didn't you?"

"We had a lot of family to lose." Ron tried to joke but it was flat, and he almost crushed her ribs as he held on. "Bill went first; he was a curse breaker for Gringotts. The Death Eaters tried to take over a branch of the bank, looking for funds probably. All the Gringotts staff, goblin and human, were killed in that battle, including Bill. Then the twins caught it not five months later and it took Mum and Dad to their knees. Then things began to hot up when the Ministry finally admitted there might be some truth in the rumour that Voldemort was alive. When Charlie was taken, I thought it would be the end of Mum, but Snape managed to get him away more or less in one piece, so that was not so bad. Then there was the aborted attack on the Ministry itself and that brought the rest of the Wizarding world into the conflict. 'Course it was at the cost of my Dad's life. After being ridiculed and bullied by the minister and his hacks, if not for my Dad raising the defenders and keeping the bastards occupied, there would have been a massacre. But Dad was a fighter when standing up for his convictions, a bloody brave fighter and they drove the Death Eaters out but at a cost." Ron sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, taking the handkerchief Desiree offered with a rueful grin. "And then they all got serious, and we finally won."

"How long after that was the war over?"

"Oh, six months, something like that," Ron said off-handedly. "Oh, enough of this maudlin talk, ever made love in a hay field?"

"What are you suggesting?" Desiree giggled, as he began splatting sloppy playful kisses over her face and neck.

"A roll in the hay?"

They both burst out laughing and rolled about until the darkness hid them totally.

oo0oo

"So, when are you going to make an honest woman of the girl?" Ginny demanded as she stirred her coffee.

Ron had invited her to an outdoor restaurant 'to talk' he had said in his invitation.

"How did you guess?" Ron yelped, flabbergasted by her question.

"Oh come on, Ron, you worship her like she is the sun and you are the flower. You take her to Mum and all but beg for approval. You even try to be a Muggle yourself and go visit her parents and brother, you the consummate Wizarding brat! You're in love, and she's got it just as badly, so when are you going to propose?"

"Tonight, I'm going to ask her tonight and if she accepts, I want to have a small get together next weekend, just you and Harry, Hermione and Draco. I bought her a ring - Harry said it's a tradition amongst Muggles - with a diamond in it, again, a traditional thing. I got Draco to arrange a meeting with the jewellers, as he did for Harry. I even got Draco to help pick it out, he's rather good with that sort of thing, you know. Although I don't like to admit it, the ferret has good taste. Do you think it will be alright?"

Ginny inspected the engagement ring her brother had bought and nodded approval. "Yes, I think she'll like that one, it's beautiful. And if she accepts, you will probably have to have a Muggle sort of engagement party too, for her friends and family, but we'll worry about that later. So, call me when you know, won't you? And I'll set everything up for the party, for you."

"Thanks, Ginny, you are the…. Bloody Hell," he exclaimed as the warning charm on his wrist chimed. "I have to get back, there's some sort of emergency. Sorry, Ginny, duty calls."

"Go!"


	8. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 07

**Chapter 7**

The surgery was reasonably simple, removing splinters of metal from the patient's chest where an industrial accident had driven the fragments deep into his thoracic cavity. Unfortunately, a couple of fragments were sitting too close to the aorta for comfort and that was why Dez had been called into the operating theatre.

Her team was all assembled and the patient was under. On her left side, scrub nurse Mike Travis stood at a relaxed alert, his cool competence a pleasure to work with. Mike Chang passed the gas, a very competent - not to say talented - anaesthesiologist who seemed to read her mind when it came to working together. He also had a student in to observe today, Ricky Morgan, in his final year of study. The final member of Dez's private team was Sue Barker, who knew her so well she also seemed to read Dez; mind when it came to passing instruments and assisting in the surgery. At her right side, staring down intently, her latest student Paul Macklewaite was eager to learn something new.

The four person nursing team were prepared and stationed around the room at the various positions and Dez stood poised, her scalpel at the ready to open the skin. She had chosen to go in with a larger incision than she usually used, then use the powerful magnifying glasses and mini cameras to trace the path of the splinters, and hopefully draw them back along the same channel for minimal trauma. This would also give Paul a chance to see the principles and techniques of microsurgery on a scale large enough to observe with the naked eye.

Chang the anaesthetist gave her the nod and she nodded back as the air went bang and two black robed, white masked strangers appeared in the operating theatre. All ten of the Guys Hospital staff froze in total astonishment and disbelief. Both of the intruders were moving erratically, and they had wands in their hands as they tried to cover all ten people in the operating theatre. Dez straightened abruptly, wondering when they would actually use magic. She thought these people must be the Death Eaters Ron had described for her, but what were they doing here? One nurse screamed reflexively and a flick of a wand sent her slamming into the wall. One of the men laughed as her screams became whimpers of pain.

"Which one of you is Desire?" one of them demanded with a distinct leer in his voice, the other sniggered inanely.

"I'm Desiree Hanson," Dez said firmly, making them both survey the six person team around the patient. She thought they might be drunk or high by the way they fidgeted and twitched. The shortest of the pair was definitely stumbling as he moved.

"Which one of you said that?" the stoned one snapped furiously.

"Take those stupid masks off!" his partner snarled, his wand waving wildly.

Dez and Mike Travis exchanged astonished glances while Mike Chang the anaesthetist chuckled. "Pot meet kettle, kettle meet pot," he said but again the surgical masks hid the speaker. There was another sound of furious frustration and Dez shook her head slightly to quell her team.

"I am Desiree Hanson," she repeated, holding up a finger. "Who are you and why are you in a sterile environment, while obviously unsterilised?"

The taller of the two intruders dashed around the table and wrapped an arm around Desiree's throat, his wand pressed into her ear. "We don't give a toss about your sterile areas, we just want to torture and rape you, and make sure Weasley gets the message."

"And what message is that?" Dez asked, trying for nonchalance, and hoping she was making it.

The second figure pushed the student surgeon aside and stepped up to the table near where Chang sat watching his patient. The South African moved very slowly, a loaded syringe in his hand as he turned to stare at Dez intently. The intruder didn't notice as he leaned forward and almost drooled on the patient. "That he is not safe, he will never be safe and we will destroy everything he touches and he just can't stop us!"

Dez felt Travis and Barker gathering themselves, the rapport they shared during surgery making it almost child's play to coordinate their thinking and movements. "Is that so," Desiree said softly, tensing her neck muscles as hard as she could before she made every other muscle in her body go totally limp. The Death Eater behind her was left with a dead weight on his hands.

oo0oo

"Two Death Eaters were seen apparating into the Guys Hospital this afternoon," Alastor began and Ron stiffened in terror.

"Dez!" he murmured then glared when Alastor glared at him. "My fiancé is working at Guys as a surgeon."

"Desiree Hanson? Oh dear, that was who they were asking after when our man spotted them at the hospital's inquiries counter. From the descriptions, I think we are dealing with Lubbock and Shamenson, both second stringers but dangerous in the unpredictable way of the slightly insane."

"If they have gone after your fiancé, Ron, where would she be at this time of day?" Lecross asked in bored tones. If people didn't know him, Frank Lecross always came across as a disinterested and bored party, but in reality he was a keen and dedicated officer.

Ron thought deeply for a moment. "Hard to say," he replied then scrubbed his face, forcing his terror away. "If she is not in her office, she may be in surgery, or consulting on a case. Here, let me ring her secretary." He pulled out his phone and speed dialled Desiree's office, getting her secretary. "Hi Jane its Ron, is Dez in? Okay, which theatre? Um, yes, which floor is that? No, no message, I'll stop by instead… yeah 'bye." He closed the flip-phone and sighed. "She's in theatre three on the tenth floor of the building in the East wing. That's just about here." He pointed to a spot on the three dimensional map Alastor had conjured for them.

"Humm, if we apparate into this corridor here and … no that gives them the rest of the room to retreat to."

"If we cast trackers over the room, so anyone disapparating will leave a trace … no, too many variables."

Ron gnawed on a thumb nail as tension coursed through him. All he really wanted to do was apparate to Desiree's side and keep her safe from the psychotic rages of the Death Eaters. When were they going to be free of the war? When were they going to be able to relax a little and live like real people? Constant vigilance, it was Alastor's creed and catchcry, and he was beginning to understand that in a very fundamental way.

"Alright," Alastor said firmly, drawing their attention back to the model. "Weasley, you and Lecross apparate into these wash rooms. Bronson, Margay and Coleson, you three apparate into the antechamber, er, recovery room, here. Meekers and I will apparate here, to the corridor. Once into position, we cast anti-apparation charms and all teams go in when I signal, wands drawn. Stun anything that moves, the Muggles as well as the Death Eaters and we'll sort them out after we secure the place. Questions? Fine, let's go!"

oo0oo

Sue Barker shoved the hapless Paul Macklewaite out of the way as Chang drove his syringe full of Pentothal into the short Death Eater's thigh, discharging it fully. Intramuscular Pentothal was not particularly effective but it made the man shriek in shock. Even as he turned in fury, Ricky Morgan's large right fist took him under the chin and literally lifted him off his feet. Both men were on their feet and put the boot in substantially, to make sure the psycho wasn't going anywhere in the immediate future.

Dez fell to the floor, taking the Death Eater with her then his weight was gone. Mike Travis grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him into the air. The idiot tried to get his wand around but Sue Barker grabbed his wrist and twisted, making him scream as one of her martial arts nerve pinches paralysed his hand. As Desiree surged to her feet, she made sure she head-butted the bastard fair in the crotch, making him gag and scream, until Travis put him out of his misery with a neat upper cut.

"See, I told you weight lifting was a useful sport," Mike said smugly, glancing down at Barker.

Sue sniffed and picked up the wand, twirling it between her fingers like a baton. "You're just in it for the muscles to flex for the girls, admit it!" she said in snooty tones as the rest of the staff slowly unfroze. "How are you, Boss?"

"I'm not sterile now, thanks to that bozzo! Honestly, give them a mask and a wand, and they think they own the bloody world. Break those wands, boys, and use a sheet to tie them up, and make sure they are gagged. How is Lisa doing?" she asked of the nursing team who were hurrying to see to their casualty.

"Not good, Doctor Hanson, she says she can't feel her legs."

"Shit! We need to get her to X-Ray and … now what?" Desiree stamped her foot in exasperation as all three doors to the operating suite were flung open and red robed men and women exploded into the area. "Oh, so the cavalry finally arrived did it?" she snapped, glaring at the slightly shocked Aurors. "You - with the glass eye - are you any good at using magic to fix bones? My nurse has a broken spine, thanks to your stupid Halloween horrors, and I want it fixed immediately. Ronald Weasley, I hope you are good at sterilisation; we do have a badly injured patient who just will not wait. Oh, and by the way, take those two idiots with you. We broke their wands and gagged them, I hope that was enough? Good. Well, hustle about then, get on with the job."

The Aurors stared at the tall woman who was tapping her foot in impatience, giving orders to their boss and telling them how to deal with their prisoners. For a moment Ron thought Alastor was going to explode, but then he gave a crack of laughter and nodded happily. "Yes, you'll make a good Weasley," he commented as he assigned people to deal with situations. "You broke their wands? Well, that's not something we would do, but you know, it really makes sense. Right, let's have a look at you, Girl." Alastor mumbled a few words under his breath and smiled in satisfaction as the girl began to breathe easier, her toes curling when he asked her to move them.

Alastor nodded imperceptibly to his team and a murmur of Latin suddenly stilled everyone in the room except Desiree. She glanced about wildly then stared at Ron in surprise as he enfolded her in a thankful hug.

"I have never been so terrified in all my life!" he muttered into her hair. "When I heard…."

"I'm okay, just a bit shaken. Thank goodness our team have been together so long we can almost read each others minds. What happens now?"

"Now, young lady, we _obliviate_ them," Alastor said firmly.

"If you want that to go seamlessly, you will have to sterilise the area and everything in it. Mike Chang used a full syringe of Pentothal on Shorty there, so that will have to be replenished and there's a dent in that wall, which will have to be fixed for authenticity."

"Huh, she's nearly as bossy as Molly," Alastor grumbled but in a fairly good-natured way as he set his team into motion.

Ron and Desiree did not answer but continued to exchange relieved kisses.


	9. Meeting a Muggle Chapter 08

A MuggleLes Dowich

**Chapter 8**

The engagement party didn't quite go as the guests expected. They all arrived at the large church hall Ron had reserved in Desiree's home village at three o'clock on Saturday afternoon, just as planned. The sun shone warmly and the birds sang in the trees, a few fields away sheep baa-ed, and the stream through the village burbled merrily. It was all very rural, everyone agreed, as they entered the Church hall, which was decked in flowers and swatches of white sain.

Arranging a venue that suited both the wizarding and the Muggle elements of their friends had not been easy. Ron had almost pulled his hair out by the time he had tried to account for all details. In the end, Dez had simply laughed at his struggles and suggested he relax. If anyone asked awkward questions or forgot themselves and performed obvious magic, then they would blame it on the champagne or the weather or simply let Ron's friend Hermione cast memory charms. She seemed to be absolutely superb at doing things like that on a large scale. Ron had laughed himself into a stitch over that insightful observation by his astute fiancé but he couldn't disagree. Hermione could take the whole guest list out with one charm, if she wanted to, she was some witch!

When everyone was arrived and greeted with very good champagne courtesy of Draco's contacts, Ron stood up and clapped for attention. "We're very glad to see you all here today but there's been a small change of plans. See, Desiree and I decided that, bugger the engagement, we would do better just to get married as we don't really want to waste any more time, so we are." He grinned mischievously and nodded to the local vicar who promptly came forward, and to Professor Dumbledore who grinned wickedly and stepped up too. They had decided they would have both wizard and church services, one after the other and it was easy enough to do.

Harry laughed and thumped Ron's shoulder allowing his friend to press a ring into his hand as they took their places on the dais. Desiree took her father's arm and allowed him to guide her toward the raised platform at the top of the hall where Ron and his best man now waited. As Ron kissed her, her simple aqua dress changed into a beautiful silk gown, not quite traditionally bridal but draped and folded over her tall figure with a spray of diamonds and pearls over the front. The Muggles in the audience oohed and aahed in surprise, the wizards made similar noises for a different reason, and Hermione carefully put her wand away, discrete to the last. Draco bent forward and kissed her ear murmuring. "We'll make a proper Slytherin of you yet, my love.'

"Over my dead body, sweetheart," Hermione whispered back with a wicked grin.

The service was short and sweet, Sue Barker acting as Desiree's attendant as she had been asked to be bridesmaid in a few months time. She had been one of the few Muggles who had been let in on the secret and only because she needed to have the proper dress on. Desiree knew her friend best and thought that warning her ahead of time would solve a lot more problems than it created. Sue didn't do surprises well. Harry stood up for Ron, trying hard not to laugh his head off at Ron's audacity. The vicar read a fairly conservative but heartfelt service, extolling the virtues and responsibilities of marriage, the duties and joys they would face together. Albus gave the blessing of the union in time honoured Wizard fashion, which the Muggles thought was a fantastic bit of sleight-of-hand. When he produced a silver knife to cut the binding cords, a few people squeaked and the magic bubble that built over their joined hands caused even more oohs and aahs from their guests. In short order, the vicar announced, "I now pronounce you man and wife; you may now kiss the bride!"

Clapping and cheers became wolf whistles and laugher until the vicar, a cheerful and mischievous soul himself, announced. "You may now _stop_ kissing the bride."

Breathless and bright red, they broke apart and joined in the laughter as their friends raised their glasses in a heart felt toast. "To the Bride and Groom!"

Fin

20.11.2005

2


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